


Six Times

by theroomstops



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 10:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroomstops/pseuds/theroomstops
Summary: "He holds her close as she melts into him, her arms tight around his waist, and he forgets that there are people in the room. He’s breathless and panting against her shoulder. His breath warming her skin, her arms making him feel at home."Five times David takes Julia's hand when she needs it, and one time she does the same for him.





	1. Panic

**Author's Note:**

> This first one is quite short, but I wanted to get started. The concept is five little moments where the touch of a hand is exactly what they needed.
> 
> Thank you to amickhawes for this idea. She sent me the gif that started this avalanche.

“You alright?” He asks, voice a little shaky and she nods in response. 

He can see her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she looks at him. Filling and filling as she tries to hold them back. Her hands shaking, palms open. Dust particles falling to the floor around them as she stands there, looking at him vacantly. He doesn’t know if she’s even heard him. And then she shakes her head. No, she’s not alright. Of course she isn’t. Neither of them are. How could they be now? 

One minute they’re walking briskly, professional pretense in tact, headed to the stage where she’ll give a speech that will catapult her to the top of the party leadership list. The next, their ears are ringing as he desperately pulls her along towards the first empty, safe space. Locking them in, talking frantically in his ear piece as he tries to find out what’s happened. Asking again and again, why the world is full of unsettled dust and broken furniture.

Despite David’s training, this has shaken him too. He feels high on adrenaline, as is expected, but even more so with fear. All he wants is to pull her into his arms, to take away the look of sheer panic on her face, but he’s all too aware of the camera in the corner that no doubt follows their every move if it still works. He turns his back to it and eventually makes her notice it too. 

Julia’s out of it, barely hanging on as she moves towards the dead spot beneath the surveillance post and hunches over as she tries to catch her breath. Breathing hard, arm around herself for some tiny bit of comfort. He paces for a bit, only as long as he feels he must, before he’s standing next to her. Her eyes find his. He sees her lip quiver as she tries to hold back the tears that pool in her eyes and the sobs that fill his ears.

He can feel her breath against his as he takes her hand, just as she had only moments ago upstairs. He imagines kissing her and taking her home, far away from this disaster zone, and drawing her a bath. Sitting there with her as she comes to terms with what just happened.

But he can’t do any of that right now, not yet. So he strokes her hand, feels her soft skin against his rough thumb and then touches her cheek as he leans against the wall next to them. Catching his breath.

“I’m here, Julia. I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Her body shakes as she sobs and he can’t help himself. He pulls her to him, wrapping her in the safety of his embrace, protecting her with his body. Lets his arms pull around her, holding her as close as she can be. Cradles her head and feels her warm, moist breath in the crook of his neck and then holds her as she cries.

And as she weeps against him, he feels salty wetness on his own cheeks as he breathes a sigh of relief that she’s alright. His eyes sting as he looks at her. But _she’s alive_. 

She’s alive, she’s alive, she’s _alive_. 

And that is the only thing that matters.


	2. Get Through The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the St. Matthew's bombing, and the previous chapter.

“We’re still looking into it,” Commander Anne Sampson cuts right to the chase just as the glass door closes behind her and Mike Travis. Julia feels her muscles tense just being in their presence. “but our preliminary investigation shows we have good reason to believe the bomb was specifically targeting you, Ma’am.”

“No shit.” 

Julia’s tone is biting and Sampson looks shocked. The professional flunky standing next to her and looking between the two women, equally so. But she has lost her patience, as evidenced by the sharp vibration in her voice as she gets updated on the situation. 

David feels an odd sense of pride in her as he stands by her side. 

He’d been asked to stay in the room by Anne Sampson, probably assuming he’d be on her side in the battle against Julia Montague, should she need it. He takes comfort in knowing it probably means she doesn’t have a clue where his true loyalties lie these days. That their secret is safe for now. That he can see Julia through this, be by her side at all times. The thought of entrusting her safety in the hands of someone who doesn’t feel the way he does, makes him feel a bit ill.

“It’s the second attempt on my life in two weeks,” Julia sighs. “I’m quite clear on the fact that I’m the specific target here, thank you.”

“Home Secretary,” Anne breathes deep, that slight hint of constant annoyance that surrounds her ever present as she places her hands on the chair in front of her. “it’s vital that we plan a routine that better secures your day to day movements. Thornton Circus was an unfortunate-“

“Clearly you have a leak right in your midst, or my day to day movements would have been safe. Why don’t you focus on also finding the person that wants me dead enough to help whoever it was that murdered five people yesterday?” He can practically feel her vibrating next to him. “Leave my personal security in the hands of the person who was assigned to do so.”

She moves across the floor in a hurry, taking her place behind the desk as she crosses her arms and sharpens her tone yet a little bit more. “David got me out safely. Twice. I’ll trust him on this for now. Get out, I have work to do,” And then she lowers her voice as she delivers the kicker. It’s loud enough for him to hear so he assume the two of them do too. “although neither of you seem to give a shit.”

When Commander Sampson finally picks her chin off the floor, she sighs as she slowly retreats. Mike Travis stands there gawping a bit, before they both begin to find their way towards the door, looking back at her curiously. Julia begins to busy herself by packing her bags as David looks at her from across the room. 

He knows why she’s stress packing. She’s panicking. It shows itself in little ways, it has ever since the shooting two weeks ago. He didn’t notice it before then. Mostly it’s little things, like the way her brows furrowed when Sampson mentioned Thornton Circus just then. Or the way her cheek sort of twitches as she watches them leave, and the fact that she needs a few attempts to catch her breath before she joins him by the shelf in her temporary office. 

Julia’s always liked having a view out onto streets full of people as she worked. It was a good reminder that they were the reason she was there, that they were the ones she was working for. Maybe it was a false sense of humility, but it’s served her well. Now all she sees is a reddish brick wall and a mess outside the glass wall opposite it. 

David leans against the shelf, looking out as he waits for her to say something.

“I’m sorry. I’m frustrated.”

“Maybe they didn’t notice.” He offers as a half-joke. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth but they both know he’s wrong. Calling your PPO by their first name anywhere other than in direct contact is... unusual. But then these were unusual times, and it had simply slipped her mind now with the lack of sleep and exhaustion.

“The room is clear. I checked.”

She feels her chest heave as he makes it clear she can speak freely. She’s barely had a moment to herself the past few days.

“I just… feel... empty. Can’t seem to pull two coherent thoughts together.” Her voice begins to shake, though she catches herself quickly. “Five people are dead and all they seem to fret about is making sure it isn’t their department at fault.” She grabs into the side of the shelf as she grounds herself with a grip, watery eyes cast down to the floor and voice thick with emotion. “We’re all at fault. We all failed them. But no one seems too concerned with that.”

His hand slides next to hers below the top of the shelf. Lingers there by her side before inching a little closer, a little closer, slowly. Until he can feel the top of her hand brush against his. Fingers skim lightly across her skin as she opens her palm and lets them find their way between hers. Into safety. To where they belong. Interlocking and holding tight as his thumb rubs along her index finger, soothing her panic and grief with slow strokes and loving patience. His skin is rough compared to hers, his hands colder and not as tense. His thumb gently stroking her hand until he feels it become heavier in his grip.

She lets her hand linger in his as long as she feels she possibly can. Soaks up the comfort it provides her with. She knows they can’t stand too close for too long before someone outside the glass wall starts asking questions. But it feels safe and right and it makes her pulse a little less erratic. He squeezes her fingers one last time and reluctantly lets her go. He whispers softly as he steps away.

_Just get through the day._

Get through the day. That’s all she has to do.

Get through chaos and uncertainty, having to watch as people fumble in the dark to find whoever is trying to end her life. She was late to her own execution but other people weren’t. There are mothers and fathers and children grieving. She has a job to do. People to seek justice for. Wrongs to right. Get through the day, do it for them.

Get through the day. Where at the end, he’ll be waiting for her. To hold her hand and kiss her fears away. Away from prying eyes, alone in a quiet bedroom, wrapped in the safety his arms. She steals another look at David and is met with a small, warm smile as he waits by the door. Feels the memory of her hand in his, before she steels herself for another meeting, for more excuses.

Just get through the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank you to amickhawes who provided me the gif of this hand-holding that I couldn't stop imagining as them.


	3. It's Just A Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've finally reached the hint of a 'mature' rating for this fic. Enjoy! David and Julia certainly do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by LavenderIstheNewBlack's mind and a photo from twitter.

This hotel is starkly different to the one they’ve been staying in. Where The Blackwood is modern and sleek, dark wood and moody colors, this is full of golden features and trinkets he assumes are either antiques or really well done replicas of them. It’s gaudy. Overwhelming so. And it’s exactly how he would have imagined the stuffy black and white gala that is The Conservative Party’s annual Christmas party to look like. Pretentious, loud and not like anything the old David would go to unless he was forced. Or working, as he was this year. By choice, surprisingly.

Even the rooms are stuffy and posh. Not his taste at all, if he even has a taste in hotel rooms. He likes The Blackwood though, he knows that. It’s far more comfortable, and feels more like home than his own flat. 

He’d almost fallen asleep as Julia worked her way through a hair and makeup appointment. Rudely awoken just as he found himself on the precipice of sweet, sweet sleep by a door slamming shut in the other room. 

He looks on with small eyes as Julia tussles in in a white terry cloth hotel robe, a glass of champagne dangling between her fingertips. She looks at the TV for a moment, then at him. She smiles as she sits on the side of the bed, and he leans forward to kiss her as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Good snooze?” He looks at her quizzically, wonders how the hell she would have known that from the other room. “You’ve left the TV on BBC Parliament.”

He hadn’t bothered changing the channel after she left the room, choosing to rest his eyes instead.

She knows him well. Too well. It’s become clearer every day as the fog from the second attack has lifted, that he had grown more attached to the Home Secretary than he’d realized. She knows him. He knows her. There are still things to learn, still exciting and fresh. They are full of new discoveries, but there’s a part of him she understands that he didn’t know could be. A hole in his heart, one from loneliness and grief, that she’s patched up one kiss, one touch at a time. 

He growls deep in his throat as he buries his face in her neck, drawing in the intoxicating smell of newly doused perfume.

“David, hair...” 

He ignores her plea and leans back, holding onto her as she falls, all 5 feet and 10 inches of her, on top of him. He kisses her until she squirms. He wants more, but she’s nervous for tonight and he lets her get up without too much of a protest as he asks what she’s wearing. She smirks a bit as she walks towards the bathroom and he hears a few soft grunts before she reappears. 

He hears her voice in the background as he floats a little out of consciousness, looking from the little pooled of fabric on the floor, up to the ridiculous curves of her hips, the black dress fitting perfectly around every part of her. The beading on top sparkling as she walks towards him.

She turns, and he finally hears her plea for help and slowly pulls the little zipper in the back further down. She sighs and he licks his lips before pressing a kiss against her neck where her hair has been pinned up. 

“It’s just a dress, David.”

She expected it was coming of course, she’d picked this dress for a reason. Hoping for this. The hands that sneak around her waist, the lips on her neck, the little noises he makes as he pulls the dress off her shoulders. David’s not like everyone else, but he’s still a man. A man that wants her and makes no secret of it. Especially as she can feel his cock straining against her through his tuxedo trousers. 

Her hips jut and his hands grasp at her as she lets the dress fall to the floor. He holds her tight against him with one hand as he leads them forward, panting in her ear about all the things he wants to do to her. His hand caresses her neck, pressing his lips to it as he begins to undress himself.

It’s quick and hurried against the desk and nothing like she’d usually want, but for this moment and before this specific evening, it’s perfect. It sets her on fire and then relaxes her. It’s what she needs now. He is exactly what she needs.

He grunts in her ear as he comes and she bites down on his hand as she does, and it’s so perfectly them as they stand there as the grunting mess they’ve now become. He kisses her neck, licks a spot tenderly as he sucks on it and leans against her over the wooden desk, hands on either side of her as they slowly regain their breath. 

She steps over the dress pooled on the floor and leaves the door to the bathroom open this time. She’s had that first reaction, and gotten exactly what she wanted out of it. She quickly cleans up and wets a towel under cold running water. His hand sneaks around her and the cold water cools her damp skin as he dabs it gently.

He watches entranced as she applies her lipstick, glad she’d insisted earlier on doing that herself. He licks his lip, mouth parted, as she watches him in the mirror. Meets his eyes as she smacks her lips and adjusts any smudges. He helps her step back into her dress as he zips it fully, and then readjusts his clothes as she leans against the bathroom counter.

She bites the corner of her mouth as she admires the way his body fills the tux. She likes watching him dress. Allows herself to imagine he’s wearing this particular outfit for her and not just because it’s required. He leans over to grab the tuxedo jacket from the chair by the door and she’s never been more grateful for any view than this one. The tuxedo trousers outlining his perfectly firm ass cheeks as he bends. Straining against the material, enhancing it perfectly, and she has to take a deep breath to keep from tearing her dress off again to continue what they’d only rushed before.

“Thank you for changing shifts.” She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him to her and holding him close. “I know you don’t want to go to this.”

“Oh, I’ve no regrets.” His lips twitch into a smile. “I’m getting paid to look at you. Wearing this dress. Think I’m alright.”

His finger touches her lip gently, pressing his mouth against it carefully. A kiss, but not. It’s the closest she’ll get for now and in her nervous state, she’ll happily take it.

There’s a certain subdued wave of sound coming from the end of the hall as they step out of the elevator. She seems apprehensive as she takes a deep breath before beginning the dreaded trek down the empty hallway. He falls behind a bit, eyes dropping to enjoy the view of her dress moving as she walks, rising and falling with each step. Eyes dance along her curves, over a perfectly peached shaped behind before it follows the dress up. 

A few loose tendrils of hair bounce slightly, barely noticeable, but enough that it makes him want to throw her against that floral wall. He walks a little faster to keep up now that he’s drank her in. Fakes a bit of a misstep so he’ll end up closer, falling into firm steps just by her side as his hand brushes against the bare skin on her back. 

Lightly. 

Carefully. 

Daringly. 

He hears a sharp, low intake of breath as his fingers touch her. He looks behind him quickly, fingertips brushing along her skin as she slows her pace and straightens her back. He lets his hand fall slightly lower, down the smooth fabric of her dress, down to where the curve of her ass begins, inching lower as his pulse drums and then withdraws. 

She should have pushed it off, she should. But there’s no one around and she wants his hand there. All night if she could.

She pauses before she reaches the ballroom doors. She used to love crowds, used to enjoy the attention, to court it willingly and now she hates it. She hates it with a passion and wishes she could run. Where once all she saw was supporters and leaders to emulate, she now sees disappointment and disillusion. 

The immediate panic from all those weeks ago has slowly been replaced by a more general anxiety. David recognizes a lot of it in himself, the worry and the bouts of paranoia. She frightens more easily and snaps at entirely different things than she used to. It’s raised a few eyebrows since. He’s heard the whispers around the Home Office, wishing he could dispel their office rumor mill and make them understand all the changes they’ve seen. 

An evening with her ex-husband at the helm isn’t where she’d choose to be, but she’s turned down too many things lately if she wants to remain relevant enough to have a chance to topple him too. To remove his power and rebuild the party, just as she’d planned to announce when the world collapsed around her a month ago. She’s read the guest list, all the right players are there but she feels tired of the game already.

Julia looks at David. She sees his eyes soften and his mouth hint at a smile, hand gently brushing against hers as he signals to let her go ahead. Suddenly she wants to run a lot less. 

Because he’s here, the one she would want to run **to**. _He_ has her back. Where else would she be?


	4. Public

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are revealed. It's time to stand up. To fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @amickhawes, I hope it's all you wanted it to be. Thank you for the idea.

It’s been a few hours since she arrived at SO-15 at their command, and it’s been the same thing over and over. They question, she answers. She feels a little bit like a captive, but it’s her professional fuck up, so she’s been patient and honest as she tries to maneuver their little interrogation.

A television plays the news in the corner and she sees her own name pop up on the news tag over and over as the report repeats. The awful CC captions make it clear they’re discussing the leaked tape. _Her_ leaked tape. With David.

She hasn’t heard it yet, but she was there. She knows if it’s real, if they really did bug her room, then they have damaging evidence. Private trysts with her married PPO caught on tape, perhaps even talk of her nightmares and honest confessions of love. Things she never intended for anyone to hear, except for him. All the things he has become to her summed up by a shitty news tag that really says nothing about the situation she actually finds herself in.

_Home Secretary Julia Montague in sex scandal._

There’s a news line that’s undoubtedly making her mother proud, wherever she is. If only it was a sex scandal. If only this was about her and some elaborate walk of shame. She could easily live that down. Retreat for a while, say nothing, make no waves. But no. They’re sitting on so much more than they even realize. A power she’s given freely to very few people in her life. The ability to hurt her. If, or when, they realize that there’s more to the story than a simple romp in a hotel room.

Meanwhile, her new Prime Minister asks questions and hurls accusations while her ex-husband lurks in a corner with a smug smile on his face. His lips noticeably twitching in discomfort whenever she mentions David by name.

They’ve been discussing quietly between them when she interrupts and presents the only question she really has for them.

“Do I still have a job?” She asks plainly.

“Julia, this isn’t some little cock up.” The silver-haired man next to her ex-husband scratches his forehead as he leans his hand on the wall. “You didn’t trip and knock over a vase. There have to be consequences.”

And then there are more questions. In excruciating detail. Where and how and why and when. She answers as evasively as she can, to avoid saying anything that can get David in trouble. 

She’s fucked up. She knows. She assumes he’ll be out of a job by the end of the day, but if she can, she wants to minimize the initial damage. To contain the scandal as much as possible. For his wife’s sake, if nothing else. And for the children she hasn’t met yet, who deserve more than this.

She sees Roger leaning against the door, tapping his foot a bit, as the Prime Minister confers with his aide. He looks self righteous as ever before, and Julia can’t help but comment. She’s had enough of both of them now.

“What are you smirking at? Disappointed it wasn’t you?”

Rather predictably, it’s like flipping a switch. His self righteousness turns to anger in a flash as he stands above her at the table, seething, voice raised and eyes laser focused at her.

“Do you really think that fucking muppet will hang around if you’re out of power? If you don’t come with any of those little perks? Free hotel room, free booze. Apparently he’s a drinker. Little loose with the booze. Boring little shag once in a while for a free hotel minibar? Maybe he didn’t mind so much.” Then he stands up, reigns himself in, and adjusts his tie and his voice as he continues. 

“I’m a patient man, Jules. I thought, and perhaps foolishly so, that I could fix you. Fix all those less desirable qualities. Keep you in check, your silly little aspirations at bay. My bad. But Budd is young and bored and now he’s lost his job. Do you think he’ll be going along to your events when he can be out drinking with his mates. Get drunk and happy instead of some pathetic fuck to make you feel better?” Julia keeps her steely gaze trained on him as he gets right in her face, lowering his voice as he tries to get to her. Again. “This isn’t a fucking fairytale, Jules. He’s not Prince Charming, you’re just the wicked witch that got lucky. He’ll run the other way when he figures out how embarrassing this is. No one’s going to want you after this, Julia.”

“Alright, Rog,” The Prime Minister pulls him back by the arm and Julia withdraws her locked gaze only when Roger does. All of this would almost be funny if it wasn’t so utterly predictable. Roger’s outburst, the other one waffling, locked in a room to be threatened into submission by men who enjoy telling her what to do. What she does care about, what does make her stomach turn into an achy, anxious little knot is the thought of David and what he’s going through wherever he is. “that’s enough of a display if you don’t mind.”

“I think Roger’s a little jealous.” A few more jabs won’t hurt her now.

“I wouldn’t fuck you if I got paid ten times what he was. I didn’t want to fuck you when I could have gotten it for free. Which is why I left, just like he will.”

“I left you, let’s be clear about that. And we both know that’s just not true.” Her posture is firm, determined. She’s in control and it gives her a certain amount of joy seeing just how much it’s getting to Roger, whose eyes have turned dark and face flushed. “But I honestly don’t care who you fuck over, Roger, because thankfully, this time it’s not going to be me.”

“You impetuous little...” Julia ignores him as she directly addresses the shorter man standing in the corner.

“Peter, I admit I’ve put you in a difficult situation, so I won’t offend you by trying to apologize. We broke the rules.” She takes a pause, considers them both and then says what she’s thought since she first sat down in that chair hours ago. “But either you fire me or I quit... or I come back on Monday and my relationship with David is no longer a bargaining chip for the Chief Whip to hang over my head.” Roger opens his mouth, no doubt the beginning of an objection, and she hurries to continue. “You may punish me, investigate my conduct, do whatever comes next, but _Roger_ doesn’t get to hold it over my head.” She takes a deep breath and sits back in her chair, confidently. “Or you find yourself a new Home Secretary.”

“You can’t seriously-“ Roger’s begun what she assumes would have been a long-winded diatribe when there is a familiar voice getting stronger, coming closer on the other side of the door. Heavy footsteps thud evenly as it gets nearer.

“...holding her as if she’s a suspect when you don’t have the right. Julia’s done nothing wrong, yet you’re treating her like she’s a criminal.” 

** _David._ **

The door cracks open just barely before a hand strives to force it shut. She stands swiftly and subconsciously holds her breath as the Prime Minister watches her with keen interest. She ignores it. She isn’t sure what the right thing to do is at that particular moment, but she does feel better knowing he’s out there. That he came for her.

David stares down the guard in front of him, in his uniform, with his stupid face right in David’s own, until the other guy withdraws and tries to soften his approach. Holding his hands up in front of him in a gesture of openness while David continues to look at him unrelentingly.

“She’s not being held against her will, sir.”

“She allowed to leave?” His left eyebrow lifts slightly and the guard looks at him nervously, then looks towards the door behind him. “Aye, I thought so. Now let me through, or it’s your head I’ll be using to open it.”

It’s a straight up threat and it’s effective, because he stands aside and David pushes the door open. She’s standing up, looking expectantly towards him when he enters, eyes wide and fists hard against the table.

“David...” She starts to speak as he closes the gap between them and buries his face into the crook of her neck, keeping it there. He holds her close as she melts into him, her arms tight around his waist, and he forgets that there are people in the room. He’s breathless and panting against her shoulder. His breath warming her skin, her arms making him feel at home.

He lifts his head, holds her face gently between his hands as he looks at her properly and smiles. “Alright?”

She nods in his firm grasp before she asks, hoping hopelessly that perhaps she’s wrong, that he’s not been subjected to the same interrogation she has. “You?”

“Aye, I just ran. Came here as soon as I could.” One brow raises, she’s curious and he’s not answered her question. But then he purses his lips and cocks his head before he continues, softly. “Sampson had some questions.”

She nods, and he strokes her hair, twirling a curl around his finger as he looks her over. He means he’s been let go. She can tell by the little lock in his jaw as he said it. He doesn’t say any more than that, just stands there quietly, stroking her back as he kisses her softly, lovingly, at her temple.

“This is entirely inappropriate, PS Budd.” David recognizes the man in the corner as the Prime Minister, even in the foul lighting of the bunker-like room they’ve placed her in. He keeps one eye on the slimy snake that looks like Julia’s ex-husband as he sneaks along the walls and then stops just behind them. He tries not to let it unnerve him.

“David, actually, sir.” The older man looks at him strangely. “I’m on leave, so it’s just David then.”

“Oh, he’s on leave. 1, 2, 3...” Roger mutters behind her and she rolls her eyes. He’s made his way in front of her, attempting to look menacing but he’s losing his touch. His attempts to rile her up are entirely too easy to predict these days.

“Do you have a problem, Mr Penhaligon?” David’s tensed beside her, standing upright and looking prepared for battle as he looks right at the Chief Whip. His voice strong. And to David’s credit, Roger looks legitimately taken aback. “Be happy for me and you to have a chat outside.”

It takes Roger a second to catch himself, a brief grimace over his face before he hits back. “Just because you’ve had an unfortunate turn at my wife doesn’t mean you get to start making threats at me, plod.”

“Ex-wife.” David states. Julia chews on her lip, trying not to smile as David looks at Roger cooly. “And if I were you I’d stop talking about her. I can’t lose the same job twice.”

He stays in his place and Julia looks at David, impressed. It’s the second time someone’s taken a verbal shot at Roger in her defense, and the second time he’s succeeded. She’s used to being the only one that actually knows how to get to him. She _could_ get used to this though.

David sighs, looking at the two older men, and the guard that’s found his place in the doorway before he takes a deep breath and lets his hand slide down Julia’s arm. “Can we go home?”

It’s not that she doesn’t want to go. She’s exhausted and sick of staring at her ex-husband’s face, she’d love nothing more than to walk out that door and leave this memory behind her. But they haven’t answered the one thing she’s asked. And she’s feels confident why.

“Do I have a job or am I resigning?” She asks calmly. And the Prime Minister simply looks at her. Because she _knows_. 

He should fire her. But he can’t afford to while he’s still on shaky ground, while no one else in his new government is really settled into their job yet. Even now, even with the news filled with jokes about her sex life, she’s of far more use to him than she is trouble. If he was going to fire her, he would have done so already. But his party will suffer the consequences of her actions, and he will suffer, so he wants to punish her before he grants her mercy. 

She grabs her bags from the floor, accepting David’s outstretched arm as she heads towards the door. She turns on her heel and speaks more confidently. “I’ll see you Monday. Might be best if I’m not around for the vultures to gobble today, so I’ll take the day. Mike Travis can handle the rest for now.”

“There will be an IOPC investigation.” He says behind them, stopping them in their tracks. “That’s not in my control, and it shouldn’t be. I won’t ask them to go easy on you.” Julia bows her head, she wouldn’t have expected otherwise. And the public wouldn’t accept it. “You’ll conduct yourselves wisely from now on? No more barging into rooms you don’t belong, Mr Budd. Let PR handle everything. If any further evidence appears, you-“

“I know. I don’t court journalists.” Julia speaks softly. David’s arm feels like an armor, and she allows herself a moment of turning somewhat personal. Leaving her bite and lowering her voice. “I practically wrote your term papers on governmental politics, Peter. I do know proper etiquette.”

The Prime Minister bites back a smile as he sighs. It’s not even been a week in his new position, and it’s been anything but easy. “I have to ask questions, Julia.”

“You have asked and I have answered, and now we would quite like to go home.”

David wraps his arm around her as the Prime Minister nods and orders the guard to step aside. He hears Roger ranting in the background, feet scuffling against concrete floors, and he turns to Julia. Smiling in a way he hasn’t seen before. Light and relaxed in a way he hasn’t seen her before either. He feels a little breathless again.

_She made the right choice._

Roger’s words had ruffled a bit at past insecurities, niggled and prodded a little to get to her. But there was a certain surge, a gut feeling, in her stomach as she found a way to quell the urge to fight his rage with her own. And safely nuzzled in David’s safe embrace now, she knows it was the right choice. Trusting herself. Trusting him.

They make a quick plan to stop by his flat to grab a bag of clothes before bunkering up in her apartment, armed with food and movies, before they quickly let go of any hope of that as they see the swarm of reporters outside.

David lets go, walks to the front desks and asks questions as she checks her phone, quickly giving up as the numbers in the red square go up and up and up as she watches it. She touches his arm as she hears the tail end of the conversation. Her car is waiting out front, they’ve deemed it impossible to use the underground parking lot because it’s already been swarmed.

The change of clothes is the least of their problems as they hear the noise of the crowd waiting for them. David looks out at them anxiously. She can see him calculating in his head, going through training scenarios in his head, and she puts her hand on his arm as she speaks quietly.

“You should wait here if that’s any easier, we’ll see each other when this blows over.”

She’s had her life scrutinized, her sex life on display, her ex-husband’s verbal accosting and at the end she chose him in front of the country’s Prime Minister. Twice. And it’s barely lunchtime. But she still has a job. 

He’s sat through Sampson’s interrogation, had his marriage troubles discussed on various news segments, no doubt avoided numerous calls from various family members and then stood face to face with the top tier of the Tory leadership. Lost his job. So she wouldn’t blame him if he needed to breathe. To think. 

They know _she’s_ there, the vultures outside, but David could stay and slip out later if she takes the brunt of it.

It’s one thing to choose her in private. It’s another to do it while a growing crowd gasps as they walk by. Yet another to hold her hand as he does so. She knows what will happen now, she’s been in the spotlight enough to know what happens next. He’s been by her side, held her as she cried, opened his heart to her, come looking for her when he shouldn’t have. He’s chosen her, and she knows. But it’s much too much to ask him to go out there with her. As much as she would like to. She gives his hand a squeeze, to assure him it’s alright.

David takes in their surroundings, sees the public talking amongst themselves as photographers continue to gather outside. Inside, they’re protected. Out there, they’re up for grabs. He can see PCs Fenton and Knowles waiting by the car behind all of them. He knows there’s not another route, not one that’s safe enough for her anyway, and he’s disappointed. This is what he’s supposed to be trained for. Avoiding things like this. He should be able to do at least this. Her safety matters more than ever, and yet here, he feels powerless against the British public.

Her hand has slipped out of his when he takes it again, tightens his grip on her fingers and stares ahead.

“David, you don’t have to...” She hesitates, softening when she sees his puzzled face. “It’s a statement. People will see us together.”

She might as well tell him the truth. It _is_ saying something. Walking out there, hand in hand. No well crafted press write up can succinctly contradict that if he’s not ready yet.

He stares back, the corner of his mouth lifting into a tiny, assured smile as he whispers in her ear, “Aye, I know. Let them.”

He pulls her along as he guides them with firm steps towards the doors, side by side. Her fingers feel warm all wrapped up in his as the cold hits them and the cameras flash. He hears strangers call their names, some even screaming as he sees glossy white rectangles in front of him. He can see his breath in front of him too, and he looks over at her and finds her looking back. The smallest hint of a triumphant smile as she bites her lip, and he matches her grin while they look at each other. He squeezes her hand and feels her squeeze it back as his gaze falls to the ground. 

It’s been a hell of a day. He woke up in a posh hotel room, immediately greeted by the sight of her, fresh from the shower, picking out the navy blue blouse with the bow that she’s wearing now. He’d forgotten to tell her then. Distracted by following her naked body as she moved around the room and then only more distracted when she’d jumped on top of him and kissed him fully awake. Showing her appreciation for him as she straddled his waist. Three words he’d been waiting to say for a week forgotten in a tangle of white sheets, before he’d had to rush into the shower lest he be late to pretend to wish her good morning in front of the guards, as he always did. They repeat in his head now, over and over as he looks up at her again.

_I love you._

She’s always stood alone in a storm. She’s had PR teams and lawyers and aides, but she’s not had someone in it with her, by her side. He must look unfeeling to all those people hurling questions at them, but she knows. She can feel his hand trembling in hers and see his jaw clenching just so, enough to know that he’s uncomfortable. But in that stoic glance and quick steps, she can also see he’s firm. Determined. He’s carved out a new course, leading her safely through the crowd, hand in hand.


	5. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About a week after the last chapter, their very public statement, and it's time for Julia to meet the little Budds, Ella and Charlie.

“Stop pinching my hand.”

David clears his throat, eye twitching in the cold, icy wind as they make their way from her car towards his flat. Julia’s hand is firm around his, fingers nestled between hers and occasionally twisted as she nervously squeezes and tugs on it as they walk. She’s been there a few times now, but it’s still an elaborate scheme of how to get her there without alerting the press. Tonight they have the bonus of a wintery Friday afternoon and its darkness.

“Sorry.” The ground crunches beneath her as they walk, and she apologizes half-heartedly, still too much in her head about what’s about to happen. “I’ve sat down with dictators, you know. Shouldn’t be nervous about this.”

“Aye, I know. I think you’ll find my kids are in many ways like little dictators.” He stops as they reach his front door, and winks at her mischievously. “A bit easier to tickle. Something you have in common.”

To be fair, if _sort of like a dictator, but easier to tickle_ was the line that led Julia’s obituary, it wouldn’t have been the worst thing she’s ever been called.

“Just remember that they don’t bite.” He kisses her hard on the mouth and then whispers in her ear as he hears footsteps on the other side of the door. “If you feel scared, you can hold my hand.”

She looks at him, unamused. Not to say she isn’t grateful, but it’s getting a little ridiculous now. They’ve talked about this moment for a week, and she’d like to just get it over with. She rolls her eyes and points to the entrance to his flat. “Please just open the door.”

A blonde woman she recognizes from photographs opens the front door and explains in a quiet voice that Ella’s found a documentary about the Queen’s Coronation on the telly and Charlie’s finishing up his homework. David nods, satisfied that everything seems calm at least, before the big introduction.

Julia hears the soft, dulcet tones of the documentary as they walk into the living room. She stands still for a moment when she first sees Ella, looking back at her with wide, curious eyes that quickly dart back towards the documentary. _Don’t push_, she tells herself. This is already not the ideal way to be introduced to David’s children, with front covers and news stations still talking about them at every turn.

“Hi, I’m Vicky.” The blonde woman holds her hand out and at once, Julia feels at ease. The wife she’s felt twinges of jealousy - a feeling she abhors - over, smiles brilliantly as they stand in the little kitchen in the back of David’s flat. His hands move from cupboards to drawers as he finds mugs and tea and honey, and fills a kettle.

“Julia.” She takes the offered hand and shakes it politely, and feels a warm smile spread on her lips as she relaxes into this utterly unfamiliar atmosphere. “Thank you for this. We thought maybe the children would find this all easier if you were here.”

“Yeah, they’ve had some questions. Kids at school, you know. They’ve been a little nervous.” 

“It is a little rushed. My flat’s still crowded by photographers.” Vicky nods emphatically, smiling a little as Julia notices Ella’s attention begin to drift more towards the kitchen than the television. Getting nearer, at least.

_David had sat down with his children the day after the news broke, confused and curious. Nervously texting Julia as he awaited them by the school gates at promptly 4 o’clock. They had been full of far more innocent questions than the ones he’d answered the day before. He’d answered patiently and set a date, promising they’d get to meet her soon._

It goes nothing as he had imagined it, introducing the three most important people in his life to each other. Julia stands to his side, his hand splayed on her back reassuringly as she hesitates a little. He rubs her back, to remind her that they’re doing this together, that that’s how they do things now, and that he’s right there if she needs him.

He’s seen brief flashes of different age related articles regarding everything from behavior to development in the past week, as Julia pretended to work while he read. It warmed his heart at the time, but he kept mum. Not wanting to reveal what he knew. Her life the past three months has been a whirlwind of chaos, and now she’s meeting children she didn’t know existed only weeks ago. But she’s learned something, because their proper introduction is smooth, if not all together easy. She doesn’t make the mistake of talking down to them, holding out her hand, looking them right in the eye and speaking softly and openly. Her lack of gushiness, a trait that often makes newspapers refer to her as an ice queen, is her strength now. 

Ella asks a few pointed questions after shaking Julia’s hand, mainly directed at her father as she keeps a watchful, protective eye on her mother and brother, then studies Julia for a moment and simply says “ok” before returning to the sofa and her documentary.

Charlie smiles shyly as he offers his little hand for a handshake. Julia’s mouth curves to a smile and meets it with a solid one, before complimenting him honestly.

“That’s a very good handshake, Charlie, where did you learn that?” Charlie smiles broadly, then shrugs as he sighs and claims not to know how he got so good, before he finds his place at the dining table again. Julia strikes up conversation with Vicky as David busies himself in the background, but she’s barely had the time to ask Vicky about her work before Charlie’s sweet little voice pipes up, and she sees Ella’s head turn out of the corner of her eye.

“Julia?” He asks, a little hesitant. “Are you good at homework?”

“Yes.” She nods, short and confidently.

“_All_ of it?” Charlie’s eyes grow wide and his vowels prolonged as she looks at her with interest.

“Most.” Charlie’s eyes widen further as he rushes to pull another chair next to his seat and Vicky laughs as she holds out her hand, clearly very happy to not be the chosen helper today.

“Alright, who’s hungry for pizza?” 

David’s waited in the background for a while, watching as Julia buries her head in a book with Charlie, and Vicky watches on from the sidelines. She seems pleased, Vicky does. A small smile on her lips, her head cocked to the right as she watched the scene play out in front of her. And it’s a relief. So many things in his life has changed since that day in early October, but his family hasn’t. This is still his family. He’s only added to it, not lost his place.

“Does she eat pizza?” Ella asks as she walks up to the dining table.

“Yes, everyone eats pizza, you silly goose.” Vicky’s arms wrap around her oldest child as she kisses her cheek. “Alright, I’m going to leave you to it and head to work. It was very nice to finally meet you, Julia.”

“Yes, likewise.” Julia sits up in her chair, and feels a need to thank Vicky. To state her gratitude that this has gone so smoothly, to thank her for her openness and for how she’s handled the circus that has become their daily lives lately. She looks at David, deeply interested in something on his phone, while Charlie’s head is buried in his book, still working on the suggestions she gave him a minute ago. She slides off the chair and leans against the wall next to Vicky.

“David’s told me so much about his family. How important it is to him. You all are.” Vicky takes a deep breath, and smiles then. Nodding as Julia clears her throat. She hadn’t expected to like this woman so much. To feel only comforted by her presence and not threatened or sabotaged. “Although it still sounds a bit like an alternate universe when compared to my divorce.”

“Trust me, I still want to bite his head off sometimes.” Julia chuckles, comforted to know she isn’t the only one who’d like to scream at David’s stubbornness. “But he’s good, and it’s nice to see him happy again. He deserves that.” 

Julia’s eyes glance at David, still deeply engrossed in his phone, now with a more annoyed grin on his face. “For a long time this was my worst nightmare, d’you know? Having to leave my kids with another woman.” 

Vicky sighs and Julia nods. “Mhm.”

“I saw you on the news. Walking through that crowd of people. I don’t know how you did it without wanting to scream.” Julia closes her eyes as Vicky continues. She had wanted to do just that. “Dave told me what you went through that day, both of you. It sounds horrible. Those reporters… They even called to the hospital where I work. Trying to get me to sell you both out so they could get a headline or something. They tried to camp outside with the kids here.”

“I’m sorry. They won’t be doing that again, I’ve made sure they know you’re all off limits.”

“Oh God, no, it’s alright. It wasn’t your fault, it was theirs. And it was so much worse for him than it was for me and the kids. And for you.” Julia sees Charlie take out another book with a deep, over dramatic sigh and she looks back at Vicky as the younger woman leans in further. “Look, David doesn’t really have a lot of people. A lot of his friends, died, either down there or after… his family live up north.” Vicky’s voice trails off as she takes a deep breath and then continues. 

“I know this is a bit weird, the press are saying all sorts of things about all of us. But I’m glad he met you. I’m grateful. At first, I wasn’t. He worked late and he couldn’t see the kids, I didn’t like you at all. I worry about him, he can get a bit closed off when he’s stressed. But we’ve talked a lot more this past week, me and Dave. Cleared the air. To make sure we end this properly.” Julia follows her gaze as Vicky’s eyes land on David, before they meet hers again. “And he deserves to fall in love, to be happy. He deserves someone who’ll go through all that and still come meet his kids.” 

_She stayed_, is what she realizes Vicky means. When things were difficult, when David needed someone the most, Julia had stayed. She’s proven herself trustworthy. Worthy of being included in their family, worthy of the man Vicky’s loved her whole life. 

Vicky turns and whispers while Ella’s distracted by her phone. “They really like this show on orangutans. If they get too rowdy or start arguing, just suggest putting that on, they’ll calm down right away.”

“Thank you.” Julia smiles. She’s grateful for the tip. It makes her feel a part of the team, gives her a helpful card to play should she need it. Vicky smiles and pats her back gently. Almost motherly, strangely enough, and Julia nods as David signals he’ll walk Vicky out. And then, Julia finds herself alone with David’s children.

She sits back down at the dining table as Charlie enthusiastically points out all the answers he believes he’s gotten right on his homework, and it’s rather sweet as she hears occasional Scottish inflections make their way into his sentence. Very much like his father, but with the more open nature his mother so clearly displayed. Ella seems more like David. Observing quietly, as Julia asks direct questions she figures one might ask an eight year old, before she lifts her head as she’s finally worked up the nerve to ask Ella one as well, only to see the girl get off the chair and leave towards the door.

Oh well, at least there no yelling.

“Julia,” David returns behind his daughter, with his hands on Ella’s shoulders. “Ella wanted to ask something.” 

“Does that guard have to follow you everywhere?” She asks, carefully.

“Tom? Yes, unfortunately. He’s very nice though, he won’t be any bother to you, I promise. Although he might appreciate a slice or two if we have any left over.” David hums in response and Ella smiles, sort of weakly. She seems disappointed. Not rude, not even cold, just a little deflated. Charlie gets her attention again with more questions, before David waves and she excuses herself to join him in the kitchen.

“Usually when we get pizza we walk. There’s a park on the way. They like hanging by the monkey bars. She’s just disappointed we can’t today, it’s nothing for you to worry about.” David shrugs as he takes the clean cutlery out of the dishwasher, shoving her playfully out of the way as he opens the drawer.

She’s disrupted their routine, of course a ten year old would be slightly dejected. Rather more, she’s impressed Ella isn’t throwing a fit right now. She’s the new woman interjecting herself in their life, following them via prodding questions and teasing in school, and now she’s ruining their weekend pizza.

“You know,” She paused, as three heads turned to look at her. “I’ve been stuck inside the office all day, some fresh air might be nice.” Julia sees Charlie’s face light up as he looks at them both, sees Ella’s go from dejected to hopeful, and then looks at David. It’s not anywhere near his call now, but he wouldn’t hesitate to reject the idea if he thought it could be dangerous. He sighs, clearly not the biggest fan, but he nods and she smiles as she turns towards the living room again. “I’ll go inform Tom we have a change of plans.”

The cold wind slaps at their backs as Tom follows with firm steps behind them. Kim’s been lured from the backup vehicle and walks up front with the two excited, younger Budds as the car drives slowly nearby. 

“You know this means pizza is cold by the time we’re home, right?” It’s not really a question, and she smirks as he looks at her in the dark.

“Not as cold as my hands.”

“Put your right hand in your pocket.” She follows his suggestion, and it is very nice. A nice break from the way the cold wind tears at her skin.

She feels him wrap his hand around the other one, pulling it into his large side pocket and she chuckles. She feels ridiculous walking there, with one hand in his pocket. But something feels soft against her fingers and it’s warm in there. They make a turn into a park full of, as he had explained, monkey bars of different heights and combinations. The children clearly have their favorites, sprinting towards them and jumping up as they dangle, gleeful laughter trilling out as Kim assumes position on one side of the area. Tom’s stopped at the other, and David smiles as he tickles the cold left hand in his pocket with his fingers and kisses her forehead.

“They love it here, thank you.”

“It’s nice being the one that has to fit in somewhere for a change. Usually people cater to me. Out of fear or just... because they have to.” David grins, hand stroking hers as he leans over to kiss the tip of her nose. It’s cold against his lips, and she shivers as he pulls her closer and places both hands inside of his pockets as he breathes warm air in her face. It’s the most ridiculous thing anyone’s ever done in front of her, but somehow it soothes her cold nose and she begins to feel her fingers again.

“Juliaaaa,” Charlie pants as he runs in their direction. “Ella doesn’t think you can reach the really high monkey bar that daddy can. And I said that I think you totally could. It’s not _that_ cold.”

David stifles a laugh as Charlie holds his little mitten clad hand out to guide her and with the gust of London wind chilling through her blue coat, she suddenly regrets ever venturing outside. She sees David’s wide smile as she closes her eyes briefly and then allows Charlie to lead her towards the playground.

“Charlie, I think I need someone to show me how first.”

He sees Julia smile in his direction and then Charlie sprinting back towards him, pulling on his hand and he curses that he got cocky. Should have known better. Ella sits confidently on top of the bars, smiling at the little circus beneath her as her feet dangle.

“Daddy usually needs a few tries.” Ella points out helpfully. The slight frostiness from earlier seems to have dissipated, though she is still far more reserved than her little brother, who has taken it upon himself to teach Julia how to hang from the bars properly.

“Aye, it’s high up, Ella. Perfectly normal.” He adds defensively.

David needs three. 

Three tries before he dangles confidently from the highest bar and holds his arm out for her to make her first attempt when he’s safely back on the ground. He mockingly explains how to jump and reach as Ella rolls her eyes and Charlie points out he’s already done this, before he finally steps aside and motions for her to try the second highest. She regrets not asking Ella to take a picture of the look on his face when she grabs it on the first try. Holding tight as she moves a hand to each pole and makes her way across it. She thinks she sees the slightest hint of an impressed smile from Ella high atop the next bar now, and her feet hurt bit as she lets go and lands on the ground. Definitely not something she’s done in the last 30 years.

The kids join together in chants to try the highest one and David shakes his head as he moves closer.

“Love, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m surprisingly limber, you know.”

“Aye, I know,” He stares at her pointedly, a hint of something wicked and seductive in his eyes that makes her cheeks begin to feel oddly warm. “but this is different.”

“Equals, right? Just find a way to help me down.” She whispers back as she jumps up and grabs onto the highest bar, regretting it instantly as she feels her hand slip on the cold, icy rod. She catches herself without too much of a fuss, but holds in an urge to curse the cold that stings her hands while Charlie applauds as he jumps, taunting his father playfully.

David watches her with a quick pulse. He didn’t want her to try it for a reason, her hands should be far too cold to hold on properly. He slides underneath her, lets her legs rest on his shoulders as he calls for an end to the games, quickly reminding his children of pizza that’s waiting to be picked up. Ella climbs down in a hurry as Charlie runs towards Kim, and he pauses at the end to allow her to climb off. She rubs her hands together, freezing, skin beginning to crack on her knuckles as he pulls her hands into his and repeats his magic trick with her nose from before. Blowing hot air as he cradles her folded hands in his, pressing her against the edge of the monkey bar as he smiles, biting his lip before he kisses her quickly and then whispers.

“Daredevil.”

“Wuss.” She whispers back. Kissing him one more time as Charlie calls for them and reminds them he’s hungry.

Julia can feel muscles she hasn’t felt in years begin to ache as they walk home in the dark, and writes down a quick shopping list as she hears excited squeals and then smells the pizza boxes being open. 

_Winter coat. _  
Mittens.  
Wool hat. 

If this is part of her life now, she needs a new kind of armor.


	6. Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months later, and David attends his first public event at Julia's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and commented on this story, it means a lot when someone reads what I write. This is an underwhelming end to this series of whatever it was, but alas, it is.

Going past the photographers was the easy part. He’d handled that better than he thought he would. 

Being seen with her had become a regular occurrence now. Though mostly in old jeans rather than like this, dressed to the nines in his police uniform. Being known as Julia Montague’s boyfriend has become natural now. The headlines they’d created with the reveal of their relationship eventually turned into smaller blurbs and photographs of them running errands. Occasionally an opinion piece would mention the scandal but mostly, their life had become beautifully normal the last few months. Dull in comparison to being chased by photographers on motorbikes and followed as they made their way around the city. 

No, he’s comfortable in his life now, and thanks to therapy and to the woman at his side, far more comfortable in his skin. It was more his surroundings that were stressing him out at this very moment. This is his first public event as her plus one. He keeps his hand protectively at her waist as long as he can, trying to feel normal by staying close to her. He doesn’t succeed and he can tell she knows. Increasingly feeling out of place, pulse erratic and heart racing, as they walk through hallowed halls and past historic paintings.

The line in front of them pauses and David steps aside to a corner, catching his breath as Julia approaches, looking at him with increasing concern. They’ve discussed this event for the past weeks since the invitation arrived, because he felt hesitant to attend after the media storm since the all too public reveal of their relationship. But she had hoped and then seduced and asked with doe filled eyes as he lay naked beside her, assuring him she didn’t want to go either but felt she should.

Julia peeks the other side of the corner and then comes back to him. “I don’t belong here, Julia.”

“Neither do I, David.”

“Buy you look like you belong.” He looks at her pointedly, gesturing to the sleek gown she’s wearing. Julia shakes her head and strokes his cheek. “I’ll make it worse for you.”

“You’ll make it bearable. Please?” Her eyes plead with him and he feels his resistance wearing down. “Nothing is ever as fun without you.”

“If they say anything about us, I can’t promise I won’t bite back.” There’s the crux of it all. 

David has held his tongue while the newspapers had their fun with his past, present and future, but not without needing the occasional talk-down from her. And it seems unlikely she can distract him by taking her top off right now, especially if he ends up next to a Daily Mail reporter or a television personality he’d like to forget the face of. No, not in the ballrooms that holds some of the Crown’s most treasured art. Letting him near a group of politicians and celebrities seems like they’re tempting fate at this point. 

He’s only here because she used every trick in the book, because she really wants him here.

“I know.” Truth be told, she wouldn’t blame him at all if he did. It’s been an eventful few months. David sighs defeatedly, pulling on her hand as he stands up. “No, wait...” She catches a hint of surprise in his eyes before they close as she presses her lips to his cheek. “I love you.”

“Aye, I love you too.” She smiles and kisses him briefly, lightly as he feels his tension abate slightly. “Being at the palace is quite cool.”

“Let’s remember to steal a pen or some chocolate for Ella.” 

David takes a single, deep breath as he fights the remaining urge to run, and then he feels her hand sliding into his and pressing it gently. Caressing it until he smiles and nods. He looks down at their joined hands, and sees the cuff links she gave him for Christmas sparkle in the light. _RM._ A family heirloom that made him cry when he got it. All the emotions of the past three months suddenly bursting out of him as they ended their first Christmas Day together. Safe, warm and alone.

Her hand stays firmly in his now, as she guides him through the crowd. He feels his neck sweating and his jaw clenching as he nods politely to whoever she greets on the way, until they’re safely tucked in a corner with two glasses of champagne. Well, he can do this. Looking at her while she drinks champagne and her eyes glisten in the light from the chandeliers above. He’d be happy doing that for hours.

He feels the mood in the room change with the announcement of dinner as Julia pulls on his hand and leads the way to another line of waiting. He’s seen all of these people in the magazines and on the news, but it’s different seeing them now. No longer figures in photographs, but people waiting for him to approach.

He assumes they’ve all heard it, just as most people in the country have. So it’s odd, looking at his own Monarch and thinking she’s heard his most intimate moments with the woman he loves. Life has become quite odd. 

As he bows his head in front of each of them, he wonders what he would be doing if he hadn’t been there on that specific train on October 1st. Assumes he’d be drinking a beer and heating up some cardboard Tesco Express ready-meal in the microwave. Not in his official uniform. Not greeting the Queen. And not with her. 

He’d like to imagine some romantic shit like ‘they would have found each other anyway’, but he knows this relationship is solely possible because of crazy circumstances. Their two worlds too far apart to even let them meet in the most random of ways otherwise. They weren’t lifelong destiny. There are no good angels standing on their shoulders to push them together. Circumstances intended to destroy them both, unfolded, and they are what came out of the wreckage. They’ve made choices. Wrong ones and right ones, and now they’re here. Not a fairytale, nor obvious destiny. Real life. Unexpected and fought for.

The evening is dull. Special and memorable in ways, his retelling of it will entertain his mother surely, but it’s definitely not his scene. It doesn’t seem to be hers either, although she’s far more comfortable conversing with the French ambassador across from them than he is. So it’s a relief when she smiles, a few minutes after groups form around him and the music shifts from soft classical to something he actually recognizes, and quietly suggests they leave and go home. On their way out she stops by a large table, full of relics and, he assumes, gifts related to the state visit. He sees her politely greet the person next to them as she leans against a white cloth-clad table, grabbing a small handful of chocolates before she slinks behind him and slips her hand in his pocket as she whispers in his ear. “For Ella.”

“Thank you.”

He kisses her, feels eyes on him as he looks behind her and sees the crowd looking at them, dispersing quickly when they catch his eye. Pretending he’s not the center of attention. The one that decidedly doesn’t really belong. He kisses her harder, and suspects she knows why because she puts her hand on his neck and rests her forehead against his. 

He leans against her as she reads the book displayed on the table and signs it. One hand on the table on the other side of her, the other next to the book, holding onto the page. He reads all of the names to himself before he signs his own name directly underneath hers and then looks at the pen. Sees the gold swirls and royal blue trim, takes a moment to take a breath because this doesn’t happen to small town Scottish boys. At least it never happened to anyone he knew. He touches the delicate Windsor outline on the pen and then hesitantly puts it down with the other, identical ones. He looks up at her, finds her smiling at him. He turns to take one last look around the room, assumes he’ll never see a room like this again. She closes her clutch bag as he turns, cocks her head and he nods. He’s done for the night. Julia holds out her hand, he takes it firmly, lacing his fingers between hers as she caresses his arm with her other hand as they make their way away from the crowd. 

He would still rather have spent the evening eating take out on the sofa with her, he can’t deny that. Rather have kissed her until she fell asleep in his arms to a movie. He’d probably be struggling to grab the remote right now instead of listening to people trying to one-up each other behind them. But when her hand holds his like it is now, he’s alright almost anywhere. He can take the stares and the whispers as they pass, her fingers sliding between his as they walk out.

_When he wakes the next morning, he finds five individually wrapped chocolates with an official seal next to the golden pen he’d signed his name with. On top of an envelope with Ella’s name. _

_There’s a note next to it. ‘See you tonight. Take out on the sofa?’ _

_He smiles to himself. His life looks different than it did a year ago. His heart has bruised and then healed. So has his body, and hers. He looks around the flat that seemed so cold when he’d first seen it, just as its only resident at the time had. It’s his home too now, as evidenced by the one remaining box in the corner that he can never quite seem to get to. They’ll fill their homes with love and laughter and memories as the years pass by. _

_And the occasional row. They are still them, after all. But he treasures those too, when they end hand in hand, naked and spent in bed as they make their compromise. _

_Real. Unexpected. Fought for._


End file.
